Frozen
No, this post isn’t about two little girls growing up in a far away land where one has magical powers, the other falls in love with a dastardly bastard, and a snowman comes to life to sing about summer. This post is about standing in an exposed field for several hours while cheering on your teenage daughter as she trudges back and forth with the rest of her rugby team.
The result isn’t really that important. They played well, and they lost, but they played well. That’s the important thing. Try telling her that. Her face was like thunder as she came off the field at the end.
The photo accompanying this blog post was taken shortly before kick-off – while she practiced conversion kicks. Before kick-off, she hoisted each kick over the bar. After kick-off, she missed every one. Go figure.
After returning home from rugby, myself and my other half set about making roast dinner for everybody – something of a Sunday tradition. While I say “myself and my other half”, I really meant “my other half”. I tidied the lounge up, prepared the table, and washed up afterwards. I really didn’t have any sort of hand in the cooking beyond peeling the potatoes.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a long overdue cup of tea waiting to be made in the kitchen, followed by quite some time pretending to watch TV, but really scrolling through rubbish on the internet. I fully expect later this evening to avoid the arrival of Monday by sitting up until all hours continuing to scroll through rubbish on the internet. I’m getting good at it.